


Operation: Avoid Anything Evil

by sammehbutt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 02:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2007000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammehbutt/pseuds/sammehbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sutton Brody hates history.</p><p>She also hates sports and Twilight and problems in general (normally she’s a fan of ignoring them until they go away – usually two of them being Scott and Stiles). But alas, her sudden move across the pond has resulted in the Briton having to take part in all three things she hates most.</p><p>
  <em>Aiden/Sutton (and a hell of a lot of Stiles)</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation: Avoid Anything Evil

“Again,” Scott asked with peering eyes and a troubled mind (which is fine, considering an entire pack of Alpha werewolves were out to get him and his friends, and something dark and evil was committing human sacrifices – so it’s a good thing he was keeping his eyes out for other murderers), “how are we related?”

“Well,” Sutton started, taking a deep breath, already sick of the second conversation she’s had in this country, “your mother’s cousins’ cousins are my grandparents.”

“Which means?” Scott’s friend asked with elaborate (and slightly too many) hand gestures.

“She’s your third cousin once removed, Scott,” Melissa piped in from all the way in the kitchen (although, to this point, she’s still not quite sure whether Scott is familiar with the term), saving Sutton from the already awkward conversation with the two teenage boys sitting across her on the coffee table (almost as if they were interrogating her, you know, just in case she was another murderer).

“Dude,” Scott’s friend exclaimed, slapping Scott’s chest. “You’re related to a rich British aristocratic family.”

And all Sutton could do was roll her eyes at the two idiots sitting on the coffee table in front of her. At this point, her cousin’s friend seemed a lot more excited than Scott himself, who was still looking at her with peering eyes.

“For God’s sake,” she cried out, wailing her hands around, “I’m not a murderer, okay, Scott?”

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise at her sudden honest outburst, leaving him no choice, but to lie to her (which Sutton is completely aware of, obviously). “N-no! I wasn’t implying that you, uh,” he quickly rambled on, rubbing the back of his neck (ladies, this meant that he was lying), “you don’t even look like a murderer! Right, Stiles?”

Almost like a Domino effect, Scott’s friend (well, now Sutton finally learnt his name – Stiles) started rambling as well with his eyes widening with every word that left his lips. “No, no, no, no, definitely not a murderer,” Stiles said quickly, not taking a single breath between his words. “No murderer looks this good. 

Sutton almost thought that he was smooth with his words by slipping a compliment within his almost pathetic explanation. That is, until both Scott and Stiles turnt their heads to face each other with a shocked (and almost scared) expression.

“Okay,” Sutton concluded, getting up from her seat with an exasperated sigh. “In the five minutes in which I’ve set foot in this house, I’m come to learn that you,” she pointed at Scott, “think I’m a murderer, and you,” then pointed at Stiles, “think I’m a good-looking murderer. Correct?” 

Seeing no reason as to lie about their first impressions of the Briton, both Scott and Stiles began to nod in sync, until Sutton clapped her hands together with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Well, that’s great for the both of you because I don’t care,” she said almost too calmly. “Might even murder a couple of people to prove to the both of you how much I don’t care.”

And with that, she left Scott and Stiles with surprised, yet impressed looks on their faces, now knowing that she’s nothing, but an innocent civilian (who also happens to be part of a rich British aristocratic family).

;

“School?” Sutton repeated Melissa’s previous words with a disgusted tone hidden underneath her confused facial expression.

“Yes, Sutton,” Melissa stated. She was currently moving around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the three teenagers living underneath her roof. “You still have to go to school.” 

“Well,” she replied, dragging out the vowels of the word, “I was, maybe, kind of hoping to, you know, not go to school?” she asked with a wince after finishing her sentence. 

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s gonna let that happen.”

Sutton whipped her head around to see a boy of her age sitting by the kitchen counter, dressed in a grey long-sleeved shirt, maroon pants, and ascarf.

“Are you wearing a scarf?” Sutton asked, all while attempting to pass her laughter as coughs. “It’s like 30 degrees outside.”

For once, she was trying her best to make a good impression. Hopefully, this American wouldn’t actually even graze the thought of her to be a murderer. Hopefully.

“I like scarves,” he shrugged at her. “I’m Isaac, by the way.”

“Sutton,” she replied politely with a small wave.

“Scott’s cousin?” Isaac asked her for confirmation, while trying to stuff a large piece of pancake in his mouth.

“Yeah,” she replied, walking over to the kitchen counter, opposite to where he was seated, “something like that.” (Considering it was only 7 in the morning, she didn’t think Isaac would be up for a history lesson of her family tree.)

Sutton took a pair of forks and knives, and began cutting Isaac’s pancakes into little tiny pieces, ones that would actually fit in his mouth and not make him look like the lochness monster when he opened his mouth to talk (since he lacked of manners). 

Instead of glaring at her for babying him, like Sutton expected (which she doesn’t mind, as long as he kept his mouth shut while munching on his breakfast), Isaac stabbed a piece of pancake with his fork and stuffed it in his mouth, then proceeded to thank her for her odd, yet kind act.

“You know, you look nothing like Scott?” Isaac pointed out.

“I think it’d be a little odd if I looked like Scott,” she replied with a frown.

“Yeah,” he replied, stuffing another piece of pancake in his mouth. “You probably wouldn’t look as hot.”

;

“I don’t think he likes me,” Sutton said to her Beacon Hills tour guide. She placed several books and binders in her locker, still not grasping the concept of public school with all these lockers and water fountains covering every meter of wall in this building.

“Trust issues,” Isaac proclaimed. “The guy couldn’t even trust me earlier today during cross country.”

“Yeah,” she huffed, shutting her locker closed. “I kind of figured that one out. Also, he thinks I’m a murderer – which I’m not. And that senior probably died long before I woke up this morning,” Sutton explained, bringing up the tragic news of the death of a senior student of Beacon Hills High School earlier this morning.

Isaac also managed to describe every single intricate detail of the corpse and the garrote and the leash to Sutton the exact moment he saw her again at school, despite her protests and claims of her disgust for blood.

He chuckled at her with a roll of his eyes at the thought of Scott and Stiles accusing the innocent girl before him of murder. Isaac placed a hand on her back, guiding her to their first class of the day – Algebra 2.

The concept of different math classes as different subjects confused Sutton. Back in England, all they had was Math, a singular, complicated subject. And unfortunately for her, American public schools had Geometry, Algebra 1, Algebra 2, and like a bajillion other different classes. Why? They’re all Math, anyways.

As Sutton stalked the hallways of Beacon Hills High School with Isaac to guide her, she noticed a familiar face amongst the crowd watching her every move, almost as if he could listen to their conversation just seconds ago from at least 20 meters away.

“Isaac,” she called out, grabbing his arm so that he stood beside her then.

And when she looked back into the crowd, she was faced with unbeknownst random faces, a confused Isaac, and yet no trace of Scott McCall’s stares.

;

To say Sutton was uncomfortable was an understatement. There she was, sitting in the cafeteria beside Isaac, eating what is possibly the shittiest lunch ever (now that is also an understatement that American high school movies make – it’s even worse than they make it to be).

Sat in front of Sutton was Stiles, with his best friend to his right, also known as the teenagers who thought that she was a murderer.

As Isaac was about to open his mouth, hoping to somehow get rid of the tension between the other three people at the table, the Alpha twins made their way to the table and sat beside Sutton and Stiles. And now Isaac was hoping he had opened his mouth sooner so that he could have gotten rid of the two murderous brothers. He quickly placed an arm around Sutton’s shoulders, as if to protect her from them.

“Who’s this?” one of the twins asked, smirking at Sutton. “New to the pack?”

“Pack?” Sutton snorted, twisting her fork around strings of pasta, not even bothering to take a glance at him. “What the hell do you think am I? A biscuit?”

And for the first time since she got to this country, Scott was relieved to have Sutton here. Aiden and Ethan, the murderous Alpha twins, were at loss for words at Sutton’s (pathetic) attempt of a joke.

“You think this is a joke?” the other twin asked with gritted teeth (honestly, who can even distinguish the two?).

Sutton glanced up at the two brothers with a bored expression on her face. “What are you going to do if I say ‘yes’? Take your shirts off?” Sutton mocked them.

At this point, Scott lost it. He continued his laughter before slowly easing it into a fit of coughs due to the savage stares of the Alpha twins.

“You’re going to regret this when we get to your Alpha,” he muttered (again with the gritted teeth).

As if it was a practiced synchronised movement, Aiden and Ethan pushed their chairs back, lifted their trays of shitty cafeteria food, and walked off to a table at the other side of the room, leaving the three boys to clean up their mess of revealing their secrets to the innocent girl.

And with just a look at Scott’s face, Sutton knew he had to tell her the truth at one point or another. But she also knew this wasn’t the right time.

“Are all Americans like that?” she joked, knowing neither of the boys wanted to talk about the recent encounter, “Or just the psychotic ones? 

;

“I guess you’d want an explanation.”

Sutton stopped in her tracks, waiting for her companion to catch up to her. She stood in the middle of the hallway, not bothering to move a single step to the side, even with all the dirty glances she was getting from the stressed out students around her. 

“Well, yeah,” she started once he stopped to stand in front of her, pausing to think her words through, “but you don’t have to do it now.”

Scott sighed, not wanting a single part of his cousin to be involved in this mess he and his friends have gotten into. “It’s going to be confusing at first, and you’ll probably think I’m insane. But you’ll understand. I know you will.”

“Well, that’s a lot of pressure,” Sutton replied with pursed lips, “but I guess by then you’ll learn not to expect for a lot of things from me.”

She whisked around and was ready to continue walking through the herd of students to her next class, when an arm grasped her wrist, twisting her body to face Scott once again. His face was only millimeters away from hers, and she could feel his breath near her lips, but for a second, Sutton could have sworn she saw a spark of yellow in his brown eyes.

What Sutton didn’t notice was Scott looking at one of the Alpha twins on the other side of the hallway with a smirk etched onto his lips, as if he was passing on a silent threat to the poor Beta.

And just like that, he left.

“You’re coming with me,” Scott quickly states with a certain tone of leadership behind his words, not even realising how it came out harsher than he initially intended it to be.

He slid his grasp up to her arm, just slightly above her elbow, and never let go of her – he couldn’t risk doing so. Not even when they finally reached Derek’s loft, where he was (partially) sure Sutton would be safe from Aiden and Ethan and Deucalion and Kali and Ennis and whoever the hell else are in the (stupid) Alpha pack. 

Scott knew he was doing the right thing by protecting her, and she knew that too, but he also realised that he couldn’t keep doing things like this without explaining a single thing to the (almost) innocent girl.

She doesn’t want any part in this mess, he tells himself, hoping it would justify his actions, or lack thereof.

And after a quick introduction between Derek, his sister, and Sutton (Sutton, Derek and Cora; guys, this is my, uh, cousin – Sutton), Scott left the three of them in the loft with barely an explanation other than Scott’s one word to Derek:

Aiden.

With just that single word, Derek knew the teenage girl was in possible danger. Emphasis on possible, since neither of the two werewolves knew a lot about the Alpha pack, other than the fact that they were only in Beacon Hills to hunt and murder something greater than all of them.

“Which is?” Sutton asked Derek. “Tell me, oh great Derek, leader of the wolves, what could be greater than any of you?”

Derek growled at the teenage girl sitting on his couch (the only couch in this entire estate, mind you). Explaining the existence of werewolves and banshees and kanimas and other supernatural beings wasn’t exactly the easiest job to put out there, even for an Alpha. Not to mention the fact that his sister, Cora, wasn’t helping at all, only ignoring the two other people (well, one human and the other a werewolf) in the loft and carried on with her work out, as if Scott never interrupted to drop Sutton off like a child in a daycare center.

“We’re working on that.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Sutton concluded. “You’re a wolf leader; Scott, Isaac, and your sister are wolves too; Lydia’s a banshee – whatever the hell that is; the annoying buff twins are wolf leaders too – I’m starting to get a feeling that everyone in this town are werewolves; and Stiles?”

“Human,” Derek replied. And somehow it seemed as if she was taking it much more calmly than Stiles did when he found out his best friend was a werewolf (but then again, Stiles is known to be a bit overdramatic).

“Nope,” she interjected all of a sudden (proving Derek completely wrong about his previous stance), standing up in the process of doing so. “Werewolves only exist in movies – specifically being Twilight.”

“You don’t have very good taste in movies, do you?” Cora’s voice bellowed from the shadows behind Derek, her first contribution to the conversation since Sutton got there.

Sutton could see Derek grimace at her voice, almost like as if he preferred her to stay hidden in the shadows where neither of them could see her or hear her or feel her presence in the already dark room.

“Excuse me?”

“Twilight is a poor portrayal of our species,” Cora explained to the teenage girl as she started getting down to the floor to do push-ups. “We don’t turn into actual wolves – that would be useless in the real world.”

Derek sighed at Sutton and turnt to his sister with his arms crossed. Sutton took this gesture as the end of their werewolf-banshee-supernatural conversation and decided to take her original seat on the couch (again, the only couch in the entire place, someone needs to buy this big bad wolf some proper furniture).

“Stop,” Derek demanded (in a very pathetic demanding voice, by the way). “You’re not done healing.”

“Yeah?” Cora replied in a mocking tone. “Well, I’m done lying around.”

“Then sit.”

“Are you gonna help me go after them?”

And with every word that left her lips, Cora seemed even more determined to continue her work out, no matter what Derek said or what her body felt. It was like she was grasping on to her life with every pull-up and every push-up, wanting to prove to the universe that she wasn’t giving up that easily.

That is, until Derek decided to be a big bully and hook his leg around her arm, dragging her down and off-balanced as he pulled his leg. Sutton could tell at this point that Derek’s sister was pissed at him. Cora got up to her feet as quickly as possible and started throwing punches carelessly at Derek (all which he could defend and dodge easily like a child’s play).

“Come on, fight back!” Cora shouted at him in frustration, finally stopping to take a breath and to throw a couple of (mean) words directed at her brother. “I came back for this? I can’t believe I got my ass thrown in a vault for three months for you!”

“All those rumours I heard,” she muttered in disappointment. “A powerful new Alpha, one of the Hale’s, building a pack – do you know how long I waited to hear something like that?”

(Frankly, at this point, Sutton still thought that Cora was talking about biscuits when hearing the word ‘pack’.)

“Do you have any idea how it felt to find out you were alive?” Cora asked Derek, tears welling in her eyes, with a combination of both relief and damp squib in her voice.

Derek was sad. Possibly the saddest a werewolf like him could feel (which is not a lot of affections). And Sutton felt sad too. She might not have trusted Derek completely at this point, unlike her odd trust for Scott, but she seemed to have developed somewhat a relationship with him in the short amount of time (approximately 24 minutes) she’s talked to him.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Derek murmured, his tone laced with a kind of sadness only he and Sutton could sense.

Then all of a sudden, they heard the buzz of an alarm. Sutton could have sworn it was the exact same alarm she has set on her iPhone. Except this one was amplified a million times louder than her alarms set in the morning to help wake her up from her deep slumber.

“Derek,” Sutton called out for the Alpha in an undertone. “What is that?”

“Trouble,” he answered simply.

And when the door opened to reveal a gigantic man with red eyes and fangs and a growl louder than any dog in this planet could project, Sutton knew she had no choice, but to trust Derek and his mythologies of werewolves and banshees and kanimas and whatever other Supernatural beings exist on this planet – because that being by the door facing the three of them was not at all human in the slightest bit.

;

**Author's Note:**

> [Based on s3/e4 – Unleashed]
> 
> Having really bad withdrawals with the lack of Aiden and Isaac in season 4, so ta-da! Fanfiction! What a great way to unleash my sadness.
> 
>  
> 
> _Dedicated to Grace {nonsense on onedirectionfanfiction}._


End file.
